


Guilty Pleasures

by Anonymous



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Purple Prose, Shameless Smut, Skinny Dipping, Swimming Pools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:53:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27395284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: The night is cold, but Heartman's spa is more than heartwarming.
Relationships: Heartman (Death Stranding)/Reader
Kudos: 9
Collections: Anonymous





	Guilty Pleasures

**Author's Note:**

> Just some shameless self indulgence written for the first Anniversary for the game. Hope you enjoy and keep on keeping on ♡

The moon waxes full, washing everything in a cold, clear light. Far above you, stars glitter across the heavens, marbled by light, wispy clouds. It’s a sight you still can’t believe is real, having spent so many years surrounded by skyscrapers and neon lights – a world that seems as distant and alien now as the life you knew before the Death Stranding. Some people might call it lonely up here, in the middle of this frozen landscape, but you find it peaceful. The only sounds are the cold night wind, and gently lapping water.

“Thought I’d find you here,” you say. “Rather late to be taking a bath, don’t you think?”

Heartman is idling by himself in the water. His normally fluffy hair is slicked back, his glasses absent on account of being prone to steaming up from the heat of the water. His AED is unfastened and left by the side of the spa. Catching sight of your expression, he half raises his hand in a placatory gesture.

“It’s fine. I just got back.” In his other hand he delicately holds a glass, half-filled. You’ve both been drinking wine since the early afternoon, but by the clink of ice in Heartman’s glass you know he’s moved on to whiskey. He pauses, staring up into the night.

“Sky’s clearing up,” you remark, and he cranes his neck to get a better view. You watch him idly for few long seconds before you let out a laugh. This seems to snap him out of his reverie. He looks back at you, and a smile curls around his mouth as he bows his head in faint embarrassment. He was so unbearably cute when flustered. You walk round to join him, but don’t get in, only sitting on the edge and dipping your legs in up to the knees, your thigh brushing gently against his head as you reach a hand down to gently stroke your fingers through his damp hair. He doesn’t react immediately, staring straight ahead, apparently lost in thought. He takes a pull of his drink before putting it down, and the warmth of it seems to revive him a little. He leans his head back, turning his gaze skyward. The soft jade light of the pool ripples over him with your movements, and you force yourself to be still. He’s lost in thought, the glass in his hand clinking as the ice melts, forgotten.

The quiet intimacy of the night creates a comfortable silence between you. Gently, he rests his head on your knee, his hair damp on your thin robe. He takes another long pull on his drink, and you watch his throat bob as he swallows it. He shudders as it goes down.

“Cold?” You ask.

He shakes his head, tipping the glass slightly. “This keeps me warm enough.” Wordlessly, you gesture down to him, and he passes you the drink. You take a sip, though you’re not much of a whisky drinker. It burns as it slides down your throat, and you cough reflexively, shaking your head as you pass it back. How he manages to drink this stuff regularly is beyond you. He smirks, though it’s affectionate rather than smug.

“You’re not quite at my level.”

“Not sure I want to be.”

“Shame… there’s so much fun that can happen with two people on the same level…” He shifts, turning so he’s facing towards you. His long, slender fingers brush the edge of where your robe meets your bare leg just above the knee. His cheek is now against the soft, warm flesh of your thigh as he murmurs, “though… maybe this works as well…”

He takes one wet, slick hand from the water and presses it against your thigh, not breaking eye contact. He’s still in the water, the lit jade lapping at his shoulders. You gaze down at him, slowly shrugging off your robe, baring yourself to the cool night air – and to him. Wordlessly, he edges forward, bowing his head as he moves his hand further up your thigh. He glances up at you, caught for a moment in a curtain of light from the aurora above, the light from the water reflecting off his face, casting bands of flickering emerald over him. And then he dips down, pushing your thighs apart with tender but firm assurance, sliding his tongue into you. Unable to stop yourself, you let out a sharp moan, arcing your head and shoulders back instinctively, hands gripping the edge of the tiles so hard you can feel your knuckles straining.

You gasp, feeling your control slip a little. You roll your hips, pulling away from him. Your body aches in retaliation, but you ignore it, lifting one leg up slightly, sweeping round to bring your foot against his collarbone, and gently you push Heartman away. He seems surprised at first, but soon relaxes, watching you obediently, eyes wide and yearning. Teasing him, you lift your foot slightly, skimming your toes up the curve of his neck, coming to rest under his chin. You lift a little more, tilting his head up. He closes his eyes, unable to stop a tiny, languid smile from pulling at the corners of his mouth, relishing the attention. There's no pretending now that he's not enjoying this as much as you are. You lift more, raising your leg completely out of the water, and he rises to follow. He’s not fully upright, but kneeling, the water lapping around his hips, just below the line of his waist, the smooth line of his stomach textured with the trail of dark hair running down from his navel, disappearing into the water. The rest is hidden, but so tantalisingly close to the surface you have to stop yourself from staring. The beaded water on his skin reflects the light like a thousand tiny jewels, droplets trailing down the contours of his body. Slowly, tantalisingly, you lower your leg, slipping it back into the water. Still kneeling, gaze locked with yours, he extends a hand like he’s inviting you to dance. You move to lower yourself into the water, and he moves to receive you in one fluid motion as if to catch you, his mouth tracing kisses up the line of your torso and skimming over the swell of your breasts which are quickly peaking in the cool night air.

You quiver instinctively at the feel of his stubble on your skin as you slip into the warm water. Taking your hand, you touch his face gently at his temple. With a warm, wet fingertip you trace the rise of his cheekbone, down along the line of his face, coming to rest over the curve of his mouth. He’s the first to look away as you feel him tense against you, eyes fluttering, mouth opening slightly. He was so malleable, and so very sensitive. He takes his hand and strokes the soft skin at your wrist as he takes it in his, lifting it slightly to kiss your fingers, his eyes locked with yours. In the low light, they shine the same green as the water surrounding you. You feel his shallow breathing against you. You lean back, looking him over. He's trying so hard to keep his composure. 

As you sit up a little in the water, the rise of your breasts break the surface, naturally buoyant in the heavily salted spa. With water on your skin, you’re acutely aware of the cold night air rolling across your exposed body. The sheen on of it on your skin, however, is impressive, and Heartman can’t help but notice. He tilts his head to one side, biting his lower lip. Bending down slightly, he bows his face to kiss you above the left breast, directly over your heart, which is currently beating so hard you wonder if he can actually hear it. Slowly, deliberately, he swirls his tongue over your nipple, before lapping up the trail of water running over your chest. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you comb your fingers around the back of his head.

Deliberately, slowly, you slide your hand down over his shoulders, into the water, along the length of his spine until you move round to cup his waist, massaging him with your fingers. You concentrate, focusing on the sensation under your palm, enjoying the way the softness gives way to the deep muscle beneath. Your pulse races as something stirs within you, forming inside you and burning like a white-hot star. You lock eyes for a moment, and you lower your face to his, taking him with your hand, your mouths meeting. He parts his lips like an offering, raising his face to meet yours with quiet fervour. You move in to kiss him again, and he rises to meet you, eyes closed, lips parted and wanting as he moans softly. You hold his head in both hands now, and he gives himself to you again, his kiss meeting yours. He shivers, a full body shudder that courses through him, causing him to gasp reflexively. You even feel it against your own skin, and instinctively you circle your arms around him, pulling him into you, and he reciprocates, leaning into you, the length of his body gliding against yours.

You can’t see anything below the surface of the water – but you can feel him. You can feel his fingers brush against your leg, and then, finding their purchase, coming to rest along your inner thigh as he pulls you in with his other hand, kissing the dip between neck and collarbone. His fingers dance over your skin, skimming your shoulders, dipping under the surface of the water where they come to rest at the small of your back.

You take his submerged hand and guide it between your legs, the gentle pressure of his palm gliding against your thigh, up into where you are open and waiting. His long, slender fingers press into your aching body, and you instinctively curl around him, pushing his fingers further into you with your own, gasping both with the effort of maintaining your position and from the mounting pleasure coursing through you. He leans forward, bowing his face to your neck, his warm lips brushing the line of your jaw as your raise your head to receive him. He traces a line down your neck, pausing at the dip of your collarbone while he moves beneath the water. The smooth ceramic of the pool slides against your back as your body surges, moving of its own accord. The sound of your cries echo out across the lake as you finally find the release you’ve been so desperate for.

Afterwards, you lean back, resting your head against the edge of the pool, closing your eyes and revelling in the quiet. You keep one hand at the nape of Heartman’s neck, idly combing through his hair. Still laying in the water, you gaze at him, satisfied, the steam still rising from the surface of the spa. Idly, you slide a hand out from the water and let a single drop from your finger break the glassy surface. The mirage is disturbed for a moment, but soon returns to its quiet state.

“It’s good to take a spa break every once in a while,” he says quietly, a mischievous look in his eye as he glances over at you. You smile, taking his chin between your thumb and forefinger to turn his head slightly, before kissing him with a soft, familiar tenderness.

“Agreed. Especially when I have access to such an attentive host.”

Breaking the quiet, slow peace of the night, Heartman’s AED sounds its usual warning. He grins.

“Well. You get to return the favour when I get back.”


End file.
